


Alyeska.

by ljke



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Historical Hetalia, M/M, RusAme, a rewatch, i really dont have to explain this one do i
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 05:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljke/pseuds/ljke
Summary: MARCH, 1867.This time, the trip was quite special.





	Alyeska.

**PALISADES, WASHINGTON, DC**

**23 MARCH** **, 1867**

“It’s today!” His bare feet slapped on the hardwood stairs, landing with a thud on the worn mat at the base as he made a mad dash to the kitchen. He felt like he was racing his own speeding heart when he collected every ingredient he needed for a classic English breakfast. However, the young nation only got as far as sausage sizzling in a skillet he shook far too often before he was shoving the hot contents in his mouth and blowing steam like a dragon. He was bouncing on his toes, itching to keep moving, yet being held up by the effort of turning the damned stove _ off _ as easily as he had gotten it _ aflame_. By the time he’d finished fiddling with it, he’d completely forgotten the eggs and bread on the table.

Once Alfred had struggled to put his boots on, tying the threadbare laces and fixing the legs of his pants over them with the hands of a man with the shakes, he began talking to himself; mapping out his day and how _ brilliant_, how _ wonderful _ it and the following week would be.

He would be spending time with his love, after all. 

Alfred slowed not a step when he saw Ivan at the docks. He ran and ran, full speed into those sturdy Russian arms. They opened for him, of course (not that he’d had any doubts), but when he crashed into that broad chest he could feel Ivan stumble, a laugh thundering in his chest. The mighty, rolling sound prompted him to laugh too, his own more boyish and high pitched (much to his chagrin-- he should sound like much more of a man after all he’d been through). 

“Goodness, careful-- I still have sea legs,” the beautiful, winding Russian reached his ears. “You are a grown country, and you are still greeting people by running into their arms?” Ivan placed Alfred on his feet, looking down at him with a teasing light in his eye. “Why is that, _ luchik__?"_

“_Parce que je t’aime_!” Alfred’s response was almost automatic. It had been his first response to things all his life after his father explained to him what it meant. He found it… sweet. He tried not to think of the bitter scenes he associated it with in the last 80 years or so. 

The look on Ivan’s face only got more gentle when a tiny smile upturned his lips. He made no move to unwrap his arms from around Alfred’s waist, and the latter was happy about it. “Is that so?” He asked the young man before him, and when he received an eager nod, he closed his eyes with a sigh (Alfred wished he hadn’t sealed off that purple before he’d reveled in it some more after so long).

“Ivan…?” The blonde frowned, his heart sinking. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with a delicacy. “Did I say something? Is that not a good reason? Should... I stop doing that?”

The burly man took a deep breath before breaking into another easy smile, but as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss to Alfred’s cheek the boy could tell there was something different about it. In his mind, he noted that he would refrain from doing such childish things in the future.

They’d been walking, at this point, for a little under an hour. There were faster ways to get across town and to the train station, but both quite liked the feeling of being hand in hand. Stares were a given, murmurs were like white noise, but there were few and some that did wave at them, smile at them, and recognize them. Those people gave them the confidence they needed to keep leisurely strides.

“It’s your turn to pick the place, yes?” Alfred’s Russian was a bit tumbly from misuse, but he repeated himself quietly a time or two to correct himself (after all, it would be rather embarrassing to mess up the language of the one you love). “Where are we--”

“_Alyeska_.”

Alfred blinked up at Ivan, who wore a mostly neutral expression if it weren’t for the hints of smugness teasing at his features. “Does that mean, you know, like--” He tried a moment to convey what he meant, unable to use words, “‘_S__hhh__'?"_

“No, silly boy. That is _zavali ebalo._ _Alyeska_ is a place. The place I am taking you for our trip.”

“Al… yasska.”

Ivan glanced at Alfred out of the corner of his eye, a brow raised. “_Alyeska_, yes.”

“A… Alaska.”

The Russian merely shook his head, a small smile pulling his lips.


End file.
